Surviving the Game as a Barbarian Chapter 721: Audience (4)

Novel: Surviving the Game as a Barbarian Author: Jung Yun-kang Updated: Jun 10, 2026

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Now reading: Chapter 721: Audience (4) from Surviving the Game as a Barbarian, a Action novel by Jung Yun-kang.

The ti I spent talking with the King of Apocalypse wasn’t very long, but sohow I kept feeling strangely familiar with him.

I thought about why that was, and the answer ca to quickly.

“Sothing about the way he talks is like Ibaekho.”

It’s hard to put into words exactly, but the two were alike.

Not just because of their rude and frivolous way of speaking, but because of that unique gaze, as if they didn’t see people as people.

Maybe that kind of gaze is what a person with a clear “goal” has.

Just like the expression I was making looking at the King of Apocalypse now.

“Should I interpret that insolent look as your answer?”

At those words, I forced myself to lower my head and avoid his gaze.

The truth that to not lose sothing you have to fight back still carved itself into my heart, but unfortunately, this ti I couldn’t go at it as fiercely as with Ibaekho.

Because I didn’t know what this bastard’s “purpose” was.

A battle of wills can only be fought once you know each other’s cards.

Yeah, so...

“...What do you want from ?”

I decided to listen first.

To get even a little hint of this guy’s “purpose” and what cards he held.

“Boring.”

Maybe he secretly expected to co out rebellious?

When I took a step back and showed him that I was backing down, the figure beyond the silk lightly tapped the throne.

“Well, fine. I don’t dislike smart guys either.”

No matter how I looked at it, that tone never felt natural.

He sounded less like the king of a country and more like so back-alley thug.

Of course, that wasn’t really important right now.

“So what should I do? Should I just not open the ‘Abyssal Gate’?”

I threw out the question casually.

After all, I had a rough idea of the king’s purpose.

I ant to test the waters, but...

“What? Hahaha! Hahahahaha!”

What the hell was this?

I didn’t expect him to laugh out loud like that right in front of .

“......”

When I glared seriously beyond the silk, the King of Apocalypse offered an apology with no sincerity at all.

“Ah, sorry, sorry. It was just too funny how you, knowing nothing, talk as if you know everything. But now that I think about it, you probably have always been like this.”

“......”

“You know nothing. You probably took cautious steps rolling your eyes like that to survive. Sotis you must’ve made mistakes and lost sothing. And before you knew it, you developed an obsession with what you don’t know.”

That was sothing I could agree with, to so extent.

It was annoying how he spoke like he knew everything.

Ah, I wonder if this bastard King of Apocalypse felt the sa way?

Hmm... judging from that laugh, he didn’t seem annoyed.

‘Enough, get to the point.’

I wanted to say that more desperately than ever but barely held it in.

It looked like this guy talked a lot.

Either that, or he was just unusually high-energy today.

Either way, I didn’t need to interrupt and risk offending him.

“Bjorn Yandel. You know nothing. How this world survives. And how much sacrifice I make for such a world.”

I just listened and quietly built a character info window in my mind about the King of Apocalypse.

‘Okay, Recognition Desire 7.’

At first, I wanted to give him 6, but considering he said that to a stranger, I gave 7.

And then...

“...What exactly does sacrifice an?”

At that point, I asked, trying to signal that I was listening by playing along.

Honestly, I was too curious not to ask, but unfortunately, he cut it off sharply.

“No matter how delicious the food is, there’s always a part you can’t eat.”

Yeah... that’s the mysticism talk, huh?

I didn’t ask further and quietly added another stat to the info window.

[King of Apocalypse]

Recognition Desire 7, Middle School Syndro 4

Hmm, sohow the aura of crappy essence was already creeping in, but it must just be my imagination.

After all, the final boss’s essence can’t be shitty, right?

“...Sohow that look in your eyes is unpleasant.”

Whoa, suddenly the tone got lower.

Anyway, this calls for 3 to Perception...

“I didn’t think anything!”

While quickly dispelling the King of Apocalypse’s suspicion, I thought to myself.

What if he found out about the info window I’m using?

‘...That would be a death sentence.’

Yeah, no need to see more—death sentence for sure.

Usually, people with cool-guy syndro freak out over this.

[King of Apocalypse]

Recognition Desire 7, Middle School Syndro 4, Cool-guy Syndro 4

Okay, so three stats already checked...

“Well, whatever... It’s not sothing impossible to understand. From your perspective, I must look like the mastermind behind everything.”

“...You an that’s not true?”

“That’s a aningless question. If I say no, will you believe ?”

That was a strangely self-deprecating remark.

So I fired back according to the stats I’d created so far.

“Of course, I won’t believe you right away. But... if you really are sacrificing for this world...”

“...Sacrificing?”

“That... is sothing remarkable.”

“......”

“Before debating right or wrong, it’s not sothing just anyone can do.”

A line that would stimulate Recognition Desire 7.

After a brief pause, he responded.

“...Tch, I didn’t do it to be recognized by anyone.”

Yeah, no doubt he was pleased.

‘Should I have given 8 instead of 7...?’

While pondering that, the King of Apocalypse spoke again.

“The conversation drifted a bit.”

Apparently, he noticed the talk was going off track.

“You can lead a horse to water, but whether it drinks is up to the horse.”

“......”

“Bjorn, son of Yandel. I have a proposal for you.”

Why does he keep pausing after every sentence?

Can’t he just speak straight through?

“I’m listening.”

As I answered, the figure beyond the silk moved and opened a palm.

“Five tis.”

“......”

“If you just fulfill my ‘requests’ five tis, I won’t interfere with whatever you do.”

Huh...

‘Five tis, huh...’

Well, that’s way more motivating than being a slave forever...

Thump!

Clearly a poisoned chalice.

The dice I rolled carefully tumbled on the board.

Not figuratively.

Rattle-rattle-rattle—

The total of the two stopped dice was 12.

Seeing this, the King of Apocalypse beyond the silk didn’t get excited at all and muttered slowly.

“A double.”

“...Again?”

Is this rigged or sothing?

“Move the horse.”

“Yes.”

At the King of Apocalypse’s urging, the knight sitting across from cautiously moved the horse.

“With this, we’ve reached my territory again. I’ll build a hotel. And since it’s a double, it’s my turn again.”

Then the King of Apocalypse had the knight throw the dice again on the floor, and the total was 7, arriving in Seoul.

My hotown, full of hotels where I was born and raised.

“Let’s see, the toll is...”

“I will use the privilege card.”

“Ah...”

This bastard really plays this ga like crap.

‘A privilege card cos out here?’

Feeling unjust without realizing it, but at the sa ti, a mont of clarity struck .

‘What the hell am I doing right now...?’

Honestly, it’s not that I really don’t know.

Right now, I’m playing a board ga with the King of Apocalypse.

Because there was no other choice but to drink the poisoned chalice.

[If you fulfill my ‘requests’ five tis, I won’t interfere with whatever you do.]

That day, the King of Apocalypse made that offer, and I accepted it.

Since he wouldn’t make all five requests at once anyway, I figured I could pretend to agree and then betray him later.

Unfortunately, the King of Apocalypse made his first “request” right after finishing his words.

[Then stay here for a week and keep company.]

The first day was really just keeping company.

The King of Apocalypse showed strong interest in my otherworld exploration stories, and I told him suitably edited versions.

But did he soon lose interest?

The King of Apocalypse said the story was boring and brought out a board ga from sowhere.

It looked like a modern item created by torturing evil spirits dragged here...

“This is getting boring too. Bring that here.”

“Is there a booklet you prefer?”

“I don’t know what the guest likes, so bring them all.”

On the third day, the King of Apocalypse put away the board gas and brought out ‘comics’.

Just by looking, it seed to be modern items made by tornting modern people as well, and judging by how many, it was at least several hundred volus.

‘But sohow the contents are subtly different.’

Among them were so comics I’d never seen before and so I knew.

For the latter, the art was sloppy and the story was just a rough copy of the original setting.

Apparently, a captured aspiring manga artist had crudely copied famous comics here.

Up to that point, I could overlook it, even if it was sad.

The real problem was when I found ‘that’ among the hundreds of comic books.

“This art style is...”

So familiar.

It was hard to believe it was a copy.

Even the title and story perfectly matched ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the manga I knew.

“Oh? You recognize it? I heard from other evil spirits that it was a very famous manga.”

“Goddamn...!!!”

This ti I couldn’t hold it in.

“What happened to the person who drew this?”

Hiding the anger boiling from my solar plexus, I asked, but the King of Apocalypse beyond the silk just picked his nose and answered nonchalantly.

“The protagonist saw a man he considered a brother forcibly rape the woman he loved and tore him apart on the spot, didn’t he?”

Ah... that part...

Honestly, I admit I’m pissed about it...

Hah, how did that author get involved in this kind of ga.

‘If I return to Earth, I won’t be able to see the ending.’

Anyway, I spent the third day watching comics all day, and when hungry, I ordered food through the knight.

“I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll bring the table.”

“Two bowls of somyeon, one yuxiang rousi, and liquor, jukyeopcheong.”

“Yes.”

I don’t know well, but maybe fans of martial arts cried out ‘gal’ (empty bowl) like this when the master chef brought out carbonara or the elder jumped in.

‘Jukyeopcheong in a fantasy...’

Hah, this isn’t the Dungeon & Stone I know.

Whatever.

I rode the elevator up and played board gas, but I don’t want to stress about this problem anymore.

It’s not even sothing to worry about now.

“After laughing and chatting all day, I’m tired. See you tomorrow.”

When the third day ended like that, the King of Apocalypse also went to sleep and left, leaving alone in that room.

Day 1: conversation.

Day 2: board gas.

Day 3: comics.

At first glance, the King of Apocalypse’s behavior seed incomprehensible, but honestly, reading between the lines wasn’t difficult.

‘...The important thing is ti.’